


(getting to know) the king

by thetealord



Series: king and lionheart [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Drinking, Illnesses, M/M, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetealord/pseuds/thetealord
Summary: Also known as five times Ardyn the Immortal King did a terrible job of trying to seduce Marshal Cor Leonis and five times he later succeeded without trying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the king and lionheart series which I also just affectionately call my sandbox au. Tags and such will change as chapters are added to this part.

The first thing Ardyn asked of him was to live at the Citadel, which Cor wasn’t completely opposed to. He didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go, and he’d known when he left Gralea he might never see his apartment there again.

He was given his own room in the same wing as Ardyn’s two Immortal Generals, neither of whom Cor had any desire to associate with, at least for a while. He knew both of them by name, Caligo and Aranea. Caligo he’d fought with on more than one occasion and he did not like the man. He was sure it was mutual. Aranea, he’d heard of, but never met in person. As he understood it, though, she could easily strike fear into the hearts of all her enemies. It was her the King was most adamant about introducing Cor to. He seemed to think they would get along for some reason. And, there was the matter of establishing what, exactly, Cor’s duties would be.

The day after Cor arrived, he stayed in his room trying to sleep through a particularly bad migraine that had reared its ugly head as they sometimes did around mid-morning or late at night. When he awoke, he rested, studying the faint scars the Starscourge had left behind on the length of his arm. And the following morning, when he was feeling more himself, Ardyn called him out to go on a tour of the Citadel. After the tour, he said, there would be a meeting.

He wasn’t sure how he was expecting it to go given what he knew of Ardyn so far, and the brief encounters they’d shared, but somehow he hadn’t expected Ardyn to be all over him the entire time. Every dreary uninteresting hallway or doorway they passed, Ardyn would point and explain what it was for all while running his fingers down Cor’s arm, or his back, nearly to his ass. The other man kept leaning against him, forcing Cor to take some of his weight as Ardyn slumped over him. They were nearly the exact same height, but with the way Ardyn slouched he seemed a good inch or two shorter, and he kept mashing the side of his head uneloquently into Cor’s shoulder and looking up at him with his giant amber eyes as he talked about the different wings and floors of the Citadel.

It certainly wasn’t Kingly behavior. In fact, Cor had yet to see that from him, outside of the afternoon in the throne room when Cor had been brought to him officially.

“Your Majesty,” Cor said to him after a while. “If I may be so bold.”

“Oh, go ahead,” Ardyn said, chin resting in his shoulder. He had his crotch pressed up against Cor’s hip and a hand at the small of his back and Cor sighed.

“This is not very appropriate behavior.”

“Oh,” Ardyn said, pulling away and circling around him, one hand resting gently on Cor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m just a very tactile person, you know? Should I stop?”

And he looked so innocent and apologetic, Cor just sighed. “It’s fine,” he said. “Just… not so close.” He held out his hand a little and took a step back. “Your Majesty.”

Ardyn sighed and looked a tad defeated, but the touching, at least, was reduced to Ardyn simply standing very, very near to him as they finished their tour of the Citadel’s most important areas. And when Ardyn wasn’t all over him every step, Cor was finally able to pay attention to other things, like the fact that many of the people bustling about its halls, though they did pay respect to the King as he passed, also stared prolongingly at Cor. Whether any of them recognized him or not, he couldn’t say, but he didn’t like the way many of them looked at him. Ardyn didn’t seem to notice at all.

Cor was truly baffled as to how Ardyn even was King, how he garnered any kind of respect from anyone. The Immortal King had always been spoken of in hushed tones as a distant man who only spoke Old Lucian and rarely conversed with anyone outside of his two Immortal Generals. This man, the man Cor was getting to know, was entirely different. He was flamboyant and had no concept of personal space, and he spoke modern Lucian perfectly well, if with a slight accent. He barely even seemed to want to put proper clothes on, his hair was wild and uncombed at all times, and he always walked with a performative slouch and a cocked hip. And yet, the staff of the Citadel bowed to him, and many of them seemed to actually take him seriously.

True, he was a healer of remarkable renown, and that was definitely deserving of respect. He’d saved Cor’s life, after all, and he owed the man everything for that. But it was hard to remember that when he acted like a limp overly performative homosexual noodle most of the time.

When they were finished with their tour, Ardyn lead him back to the one of the conference rooms on the second floor. Cor supposed he would learn his way around the Citadel in time, though it still all mostly looked the same to him, a place that would be incredibly easy to get lost in.

“You’ve… always been able to speak modern Lucian?” he asked as they walked. “Your Majesty?”

Ardyn waved his hand dismissively at the title, and at the question. “Of course I have,” he said. “I need to be able to speak to my loyal subjects, you know.”

“But,” Cor said, “all of the radios and newspapers quote you in Old Lucian. In Niflheim, that’s all everyone assumes you can speak.”

“All the better to keep up appearances, my dear Marshal,” was all Ardyn said to that.

In the meeting room, the King pulled over a large decorated chair at once and sat, lounging while Cor stood in parade rest at his side, as he was accustomed to doing for those of higher rank than him. His position in Niflheim had been much different, though. He hadn’t so much protected those higher ranked as he had overseen those lower than him. He was used to giving commands and leading a squadron, and Ardyn seemed to expect something much different.

“You’re very handsome, you know,” Ardyn said, completely out of the blue, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Cor, his cheek resting on one hand. “I’m a lucky man, aren’t I, Marshal? To have saved one such as yourself and be owed a life debt. And to think, you were serving me all those years and I never knew. It’s unfortunate.”

Cor held his tongue and didn’t look at him. He wasn’t sure what the other man’s game was, but it was obvious at the least that Ardyn was just trying to get to him. Throw him off guard, maybe.

Thankfully, Aranea and Caligo entered at that moment, one right behind the other, and took up seats at the table. Aranea immediately leaned so far back Cor thought her chair would tip over and put her foot on the edge of the table for balance, while Caligo settled in, carefully situating himself while favoring his bad leg, and folded his hands, eyeing Cor like he was ready to launch over and tear his throat out.

“Marshal,” Ardyn said, motioning to the two of them. “These are my lovely friends, Aranea and Caligo, though I’m sure you’ve heard of them. And this,” he said, motioning to Cor, “Is my new favorite Marshal, Cor Leonis. I hope you all can get along.”

“We’ve met,” Caligo grunted, gaze flicking to Ardyn, and it was the sort of look you gave to someone when you really wanted to say something nasty to their face in private. Aranea just stared at Cor, unreadable, and that was somehow significantly worse.

“I’ll make this quick,” Ardyn said, folding his hands over his stomach and stretching out his left leg. “Caligo, I would like you to focus on organizing our forces alongside Aranea. Cor will take over your job as my bodyguard.”

“What!” Caligo barked, half rising with his hands slammed down on the table. “That’s outrageous! Your Majesty—” He glared at Ardyn. “You letting this, this…” He pointed an accusatory finger at Cor, “ _Niflheim_ man in here, that’s one thing. But I know what game you’re playing, Ardyn, and this is one step too far! It isn’t worth your safety.”

“Oh, please,” Ardyn sighed.

Cor frowned and glared back at him. “I _defected_ ,” he reminded Caligo with far too much malice in his voice.

“So you say,” Caligo snarled. “But why should I believe you? Who’s word do we have to go on, hmm? Only yours and Monica’s, last I checked. There’s no proof that information was coming from you all those years, no proof that you haven’t come here only to worm your way into our midst and turn your back on us the moment we aren’t checking over our shoulders!”

“Oh, Caligo,” Ardyn said, shifting in his seat to lean his cheek on his other fist. “You think everything in an elaborate scheme. I saved his life, you know.”

“That means _nothing_ ,” Caligo hissed.

“All right.” Ardyn shrugged. “If you feel that strongly, the two of you can split the work, fifty fifty. Cor will take the evening shift, and Caligo, you can have the morning shift. And you’re welcome to post whatever other guards on rotation your little heart desires. As if the last assassination attempt wasn’t over five hundred years ago. And I _am_ immortal.”

“But you can still get hurt,” Caligo reminded him, “And—” he paused, glanced at Cor, then sighed. “Well, fine,” he ground out. “Have it your way. But I’d like have some words privately when we’re finished here, Your Majesty.”

Ardyn shrugged. “All right.” He looked at Aranea. “And what’s your opinion?”

She just rolled her head to look at him. “In two thousand years I’ve never been able to stop you from doing literally anything. Do whatever you want, just don’t come crying to me if he stabs you in the back. Are we done here?”

Ardyn grinned. “That’s my spider. Now,” he clapped his hands together. “Is that all settled? You may have your words with me, Caligo. Aranea, please wait with Cor outside.”

Cor left the room as ordered and lingered outside the door, stiff as a board. Aranea followed a moment later, lounging against the wall beside him. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, “he just wants you to be his lap dog.”

“I know that,” Cor said, standing in parade rest and determinedly not looking at her.

“Oh?” He could practically feel the eyebrow raise as she turned towards him. “Well, I guess you must be pretty sharp, if you got promoted to Captain over there.”

Cor said nothing.

“Say,” she said, shifting to lean towards him, and even though she was shorter, it was somehow still uncomfortably intimidating. “You look uh… kind of familiar. Pretty blue-eyed boy.” She grinned, all teeth. “Any relation to Titus Drautos?”

Cor swallowed. “My half-brother,” he said, truthfully.

“Huh,” she muttered, leaning back. “Wonder what he thinks about you now, hm?”

Admittedly, Cor hadn’t thought much about his half-brother. He’d been a little distracted between his mission and almost turning into a daemon and being dragged suddenly into the Immortal King’s retinue. But as soon as she reminded him, he started to sweat. Titus certainly already knew. And he would be furious.

Aranea moved aside as Ardyn and Caligo emerged, and Ardyn immediately swept over to Cor’s side, looping their arms together and spreading his palm over Cor’s muscular bicep. Caligo looked livid, glaring at Cor with his lip curled. “I’ve got my eyes on you,” he hissed, and whirled, whisking away down the hall, his limp even heavier, his walk angrier than normal.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Aranea said, and Ardyn lead Cor away by the arm.

—

About an hour later, after moping about thoughtfully, Ardyn decided he wanted to go on a walk, alone, and Cor didn’t even know how to begin to try to stop him, didn’t even know if he should. So, he let him. It was only when Caligo came to the throne room to find throne empty, King missing, and Cor standing in parade rest looking exceptionally uncomfortable, that he realized he really should have insisted on going with him. Caligo gave him a good verbal lashing, and Cor was powerless to do anything but frown at him and admit that Ardyn had practically ditched him. Now, it had started to rain, and there was still no sign of their King. So, Caligo cursed something about Cor trying to kill him and ordered him to go after him.

Every time he and Ardyn were in private, it seemed, it was raining. It had been the day they’d met in Niflheim. It had been when Ardyn came to him in Duscae and noticed the Starscourge settling in.

It wasn’t too hard to find the King. Cor didn’t know his way around the Citadel at all, never mind the city of Insomnia, but it was easy enough to ask the guards posted here and there if they’d seen the King pass that way, and follow their directions until he found him around the back of the Citadel near the gardens, leaning back beneath an awning as he stared out at the rain, his hair and coat soaked.

Cor couldn’t help but soften a little, when he saw him like that, we and thoughtful and quiet. This time, it was Cor who approached him, slid beneath the awning beside him, and held out the umbrella. Ardyn looked at him, grinning a little as he took it. “I should have known the Marshal was bound to come to my rescue,” he said.

Cor sighed at him. “You could have called me. I gave you my phone number.”

Ardyn shrugged. “That would have ruined the appeal of my handsome knight coming to find me on his own.” He purred the words, smiling too wide.

Cor ran one hand back through his short hair, over the strands. He didn’t even know how to respond to that. “Right,” he said, as professionally as he could. “Just… you can take your umbrella back, Your Majesty. It was yours to begin with, anyway.” He paused. “Caligo was looking for you. He was angry that you left without an escort.”

“Oh, honestly,” Ardyn sighed and waved one hand dismissively. “He’s always been like this. Despite immortality, he still worries. I suppose we have no choice but to appease him.” He paused. “He doesn’t trust you, Marshal. I suggest you do your best to earn that trust.”

“Why do you think I came out here?” Cor frowned, and Ardyn looked almost disappointed that he’d apparently come on Caligo’s order. That look on Ardyn’s face made Cor’s chest tight in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he didn’t mind so much when Ardyn moved in close and held the umbrella over them, changing the subject to talk about the following day’s schedule as they walked back in the rain together.


	2. Chapter 2

The King of Tenebrae had come for a visit. He was announced in the throne room the day he arrived, and Ardyn was seated there, much as he had been the day Cor was brought to him. He wasn’t in any kind of ceremonial garb, as Cor had so often seen him depicted in religious art and photographs in newspapers. But he had worn a fairly decent robe wrapped up around one shoulder, his hair at least passably combed to greet the other King.

Cor had certainly heard of the recently crowned King of Tenebrae, though he’d never met him. On the day King Ravus arrived, Cor was on duty, and he’d been instructed by Caligo to stand at his King’s side while he greeted him.

Given the way Ardyn presented himself, it was obvious they’d met before. Obvious, even, that they were friends. King Ravus was greeted formally, but there was still a casual air to it, and Ardyn invited him to dine with them like you might invite a family friend.

After they’d said their words to each other, though, King Ravus’s gaze landed directly on Cor and Cor froze. “And who is this?” he asked, his mismatched eyes sharp and full of an unexpected amount of malice as he looked at him.

“Cor Leonis,” Ardyn said, tilting his chin up in an almost challenging way, and smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

For a moment, Ravus looked at his fellow King, baffled, and then looked back at Cor, narrowing his eyes. “You so easily let a Niflheim man into your fold?”

“He isn’t any longer,” Ardyn assured him. “He’s mine, now.”

Cor felt his heart unexpectedly clench in his chest, and he straightened, if anything, just wanting to make a good impression.

Ravus just kept staring at Cor. “And how did you arrange that?” he asked, clearly addressing the King, but Cor swallowed hard. He didn’t like the way this man was looking at him.

As if to reassure him, or maybe to make a point, Ardyn reached out and took Cor’s hand gently. “He owes me a life debt,” Ardyn said simply. “What’s the matter? You don’t believe me? Or you’ve been speaking to Caligo?”

“I haven’t even seen Caligo since I arrived,” Ravus said. Finally, he turned his mismatched gaze and furrowed brow to Ardyn. “I’d like to speak with you in private about this, Ardyn.”

“Oh, really?” Ardyn purred. He brought Cor’s hand to his lips, kissed his fingers and Cor flushed terribly in embarrassment. Ardyn turned his gaze on him for a moment, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that was, maybe, supposed to be appealing. He’d been doing that on and off since he’d arrived and Cor had learned to ignore it. He tugged his hand away, rested it on the hilt of his sword instead, and Ardyn let him go, staring pointedly at Ravus. “Surely there isn’t anything you have to say that he can’t hear.”

“You know very well that there is,” Ravus said, voice tight, clearly tiring of Ardyn quickly.

Ardyn sighed, put-upon, and waved Cor away. “Very well, then. Cor, will you find Caligo and tell him that Ravus has arrived?”

“Yes,” Cor said carefully. “Your Majesty.” He bowed as was proper and descended from the throne, brushing past Ravus, determined not to look at him, perhaps so the other man didn’t see the nervousness and discomfort in his eyes.

When the door had closed behind Cor, and the two Kings were alone in the throne room, Ravus climbed the stairs. “How did you manage that?” he asked.

“What?” Ardyn replied, innocent, and turned in his throne, lounging with his legs draped over one arm.

“Him.” Ravus folded his arms, standing just before him.

“I told you,” Ardyn said. “He owes me a life debt. Honestly, he got himself here entirely on his own I had absolutely nothing to do with it, and that’s the truth. You can ask Caligo if you don’t believe me.”

Ravus sighed. “You never cease to amaze me.” He rubbed at his chin and Ardyn just grinned at him. Ravus clearly didn’t believe a word he said, and Ardyn didn’t blame him. The story was a rather unbelievable one and well, he was lying just a little bit when he said he hadn’t had anything to do with it. He had. But if he hadn’t shown up Cor would have died. So what else was he supposed to do?

“This is really about the bet,” Ardyn said, “Isn’t it? You want to call it off now because the situation is different than you thought?”

“No,” Ravus said, though he’d clearly been considering it. Ardyn knew, though, that when pressed, Ravus would never pull out of a bet or a challenge of any kind. He was too prideful for that. “This does change things but…. no. I’ll be interested to see how this develops from here. I hope you’ll keep me informed of the situation.”

“Oh, I will,” Ardyn replied, fluttering his eyelashes. Ravus scoffed at him, turned, and left the throne room.

He passed Cor, standing in parade rest just outside the heavy doors. Caligo stood there with him, arms folded, favoring his bad leg, but he did a polite half-bow when Ravus emerged.

“Cor Leonis,” Ravus said, hissing his name, and Cor let out a slow breath, tried not to show his unease at being cornered by King Ravus and Caligo at the same time. He’d had worse in Niflheim, but these two were like voretooths on the prowl and they clearly intended to play off each other. “What is it you hope to accomplish here?”

“I…” Cor frowned. “Your Majesty. I mean no disrespect, but I’ve been serving King Ardyn for nearly ten years, working as a spy in Niflheim.”

Ravus raised his eyebrows and looked at Caligo as if to ask ‘did you know that?’ Caligo just frowned and Ravus leaned in closer. “Is that so? Well.” He scowled. “If I were you, I would be careful not to get too close your immortal King. You don’t know what kinds of secrets he’s keeping.”

“As he says,” Caligo said, “Just do as you’re told.” Though Caligo’s eyes were softer than Ravus’s. Perhaps he had a different reason for his thinly veiled threat than the foreign King.

Cor shifted slightly, hands still clasped loosely behind his back, and stared at the other two men, unflinching. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing,” he said carefully. “I’m not sure what lead you to have reason to think otherwise, but I have no interest in our relationship becoming anything other than a professional one.”

“Then stay on your toes,” Ravus growled quietly. “He _will_ try to get you to sleep with him. If you’re smart, you won’t fall for it.” He motioned to Calgio. “Come, Caligo. Let’s have a walk.”

—

That afternoon, when his meetings with Ravus had finished and the other King was preparing for his return trip in the evening, Ardyn held audience. Cor and Caligo both stood guard, on either side of his throne as Caligo called the citizens in one by one to speak with him. Most were what Cor assumed to be the typical sort. They wanted their crops blessed, or their marriage blessed, or their newborn babies blessed. They weren’t allowed to get very close to Ardyn, kept at the bottom of the stairs by the guards, and Ardyn sat very still in his robes on the throne, his hair more carefully combed than it had been that morning. Cor supposed that to those below he must have looked regal, but to Cor he just looked bored.

Each blessing, every word he spoke, he delivered in Old Lucian, which Caligo gruffly translated for the citizens in question.

Ardyn leaned back on the throne just slightly, shifted his leg just enough that Cor and Caligo noticed but no one else would. “You grow tired?” Caligo asked quietly under his breath. Ardyn replied something in Old Lucian that Cor didn’t understand, and for a moment he and Caligo conversed quietly, until Ardyn’s attention was drawn by some commotion among the guards just outside the open throne room doors, and Ardyn sat up a little straighter, barked out a command to the guards, and the commotion stopped.

A woman’s voice echoed into the throne room. She was older, and clutched a child-sized bundle of rags to her chest. She was filthy, her hair a tangled mess, and the guards were still trying to restrain her despite how she resisted them. She sounded like she was crying, begging them to let her see the King.

“Let her in,” Caligo said, translating Ardyn’s words directly.

“She cut the line, Your Majesty,” the soldier explained, but Ardyn waved his hand dismissively and the soldier let her go. At last, she burst into the throne room and fell to her knees, clutching her child to her chest, sobbing.

“My baby,” she was crying. “She’s sick. Please, Your Majesty, _please_!”

“The King,” Caligo started to say, “will not heal common afflictions, and if it’s the Starscourge that’s absolutely out of the question when he recently—,” but Ardyn held up his hand again, muttered something to him, and Caligo stopped.

“Your _Majesty_ ,” Caligo said, sounding appalled as Ardyn rose from the throne, staring down at the woman, crying on her knees. As he started to descend the stair, bare feet against cool stone, taking them carefully, Caligo made a hurried motion to Cor, who followed.

Caligo eased himself down the stairs behind them both, still catching up by the time Ardyn reached the bottom and stood before her. He crouched down and Cor stood next to him as Ardyn said something soothing in Old Lucian and reached out his hands, presumably to take the child.

The woman, sniffling, looked up at him and sat back on her heels, gently pulling her child away from her chest and unwrapping the toddler’s head from the blanket she’d had it concealed in. Cor hissed between his teeth at the sight. The child was practically half-daemon, her skin all black and leaking ooze, and she was completely unconscious. Cor realized, with a shock of discomfort, that Ardyn had healed him long before he’d reached that stage. That if he’d waited much longer, he would have ended up like that, too. And he watched as Ardyn gently took the child from the woman, looked upon its face not with fear or disgust, but warmth and understanding and the desire to help.

“You should have come sooner,” Caligo translated as Ardyn began to speak. “Your child, she doesn’t have much time. It will be difficult, but I can still—,” he frowned. “Your Majesty, you should _not_. You’ve only just recovered from healing Cor.”

Cor looked at Caligo, then down at Ardyn. It had been a few weeks, and he’d noticed how tired Ardyn had seemed at times, but he hadn’t realized…

“Onus irrogat scis*.” Caligo’s voice softened as he spoke in Old Lucian.

Ardyn looked at him, said something gently, though Cor could only make out Caligo’s name, and perhaps that Ardyn was telling him not to worry.

Caligo ground his teeth in frustration, then looked at the mother. There were tears in her eyes, she looked so hopeful. But Cor couldn’t stop staring at Ardyn, watching him as he inspected her Starscourge-ridden child.

At last, Caligo sighed. “Fine,” he said quietly. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Ardyn smiled softly, and there was a gentle white light, the same white light Cor vaguely remembered from when Ardyn had healed him. He remembered how warm it was, like water from a pleasant bath washing over him, even though at the time, he’d been all but unconscious himself.

As the magic ran its course, the black marks on the child’s skin began to fade, the protrutions of bone receded, and she looked more peacefully asleep than anything. By the time he’d finished, Ardyn was breathing heavily, trembling, but he smiled at the mother as he passed her child to her, and she was crying tears of joy. She clutched her baby to her chest, sobbed her ‘thank-yous’ over and over as the guards coaxed her to her feet and led her away.

Ardyn rose, swayed, and Cor reflexively reached out to grab his elbow, to steady him, before Caligo could even react. He thought he felt his heart clench when the King shot him a grateful smile.

“That’s enough for today,” Caligo called to the guards at the door. “The King needs his rest.”

“Well,” Ardyn said, clearly out of breath and trying his hardest to act like he wasn’t. “That was eventful. You’ll come to dinner with us in an hour won’t you, Cor?”

“I,” Cor began, caught off guard by the question. He knew that Ardyn, Caligo, and Aranea shared dinner every evening. He’d never been invited before. “Yes,” he said, because you did not say no to an invitation to dinner from the King. “Of course.”

“Oh good,” Ardyn gave him such a beautiful smile he couldn’t do anything but stare. “I do so want you there. You’ll be a relief to have next to those two.” He motioned at Caligo. “Otherwise I’ll hear nothing but their relentless chiding all night long.” He sighed and pulled away from Cor, steadying himself on his own. “Now forgive me, I must retire. Come along, Caligo, let’s give our Marshal a much deserved break after his long shift today.”

—

Despite Ardyn’s claim, neither Caligo nor Aranea seemed interested in chiding him over dinner. Aranea had something else on her mind entirely, twirling a small flower between her finger and thumb, leaning with one arm draped over the back of her chair as they all waited for the chefs to bring their meal.

The arrangement was not at all what Cor had imagined. He thought they would be eating in the immense dining hall but that, according to Caligo, was reserved for events and important guests. Their private dinners were held in a much smaller dining room just off the kitchens, the five of them seated around a fine wooden table with Ardyn at the head. He’d draped himself in it, dressed in a nightgown and a dressing robe, his hair still wet from his bath and pulled back into a ponytail, his thick-framed maroon glasses balanced on his nose. He kept staring at the ceiling, dazed and smiling thoughtfully to himself.

“Ravus hurried quickly back to Tenebrae,” Caligo stated at last, sipping his wine. “He skipped out on dinner.” The young man sitting next to him was someone Cor, unfortunately, recognized and knew all too well. A high-ranking military official, named Loqi. They’d fought on occasion, he was friends with Caligo. Cor hadn’t been aware he’d be at dinner. He hadn’t, actually, seen him at all since he arrived. But in the interest of keeping the peace, he very carefully did not make eye contact, and Loqi did the same.

“Yes,” Ardyn said, airily, after a moment. “He had business to attend to and, something about his sister wanting him back as soon as he was able.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t Aranea who scared him off?” Loqi snorted. Caligo elbowed him hard in the shoulder.

She perked up at the sound of her name, staring at the flower she held thoughtfully. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s got a point. That reminds me, I wanted you all to know, I’d like to break his bones.” She paused. “But in a sexy way.” She looked thoroughly contemplative, and a long, uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Cor suddenly felt like he was sweating much more than he normally did. Loqi had choked on his champagne. Caligo was just gawking at her.

“Please,” Caligo choked out after a moment. “ _Not_ at the dinner table.”

“Oh, come,” Ardyn said, “If I can wear my dressing gown and none of you complain, she can talk about whatever she likes.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Like I’d go into detail. I don’t think any of you want to know the kind of stuff I used to do with my girlfriends in bed.”

“Please, no,” Loqi whispered.

“Ravus, though,” Caligo said, face twisting up in genuine confusion. “I thought you were a lesbian.”

“Huh?” Aranea gave him an equally confused look. “Two thousand _years_ , Caliogo. I’ve always been bisexual.”

Ardyn, who still didn’t look surprised in the least, as though they were talking about the weather, chimed in with, “She has always been bisexual. And you’re an idiot.”

“But,” he stammered, “You’ve always dated women. And you turned _me_ down.”

“That’s because you’re boring,” she said. “And ugly. Ravus is cute.”

Loqi choked on his champagne again.

Ardyn said, “Go get him, darling. I know for a fact he is extremely single.”

Cor rubbed at the bridge of his nose, but thankfully the chefs arrived, and started laying out an expansive dinner before the five of them with all manner of meat and vegetable dishes.

“Tuck in,” Ardyn said, finally sitting forward.

“So,” Cor began, and immediately regretted saying anything at all when they all turned to look at him. “You all speak Old Lucian.” Except Loqi, of course, but the young man was still acting like Cor wasn’t even there. “Any chance you’ll teach me a little? If I’m going to be guarding you, it seems like it would be useful.”

“Oh,” Ardyn grinned and put his hand to his chest, looking maybe genuinely touched, but it was hard to tell. “What a lovely idea. I’m sure Caligo would be happy to teach you.”

Caligo groaned unhappily through a mouthful of beans. “Old Lucian is not easy to learn,” He grunted.

“Come now, Caligo,” Ardyn said. “Anyone can learn if they put their mind to it. I’m sure Cor will be a fine student. It will help the two of you bond.”

Caligo groaned again and shoved more beans into his mouth.

“Well,” Cor said, shrugging. “I’d give it a try.” He glanced hesitantly at Caligo. Of course Caligo wasn’t his… ideal teacher. But maybe it would be good to spend more time with him, anyway. He and Ardyn had spent two thousand years together, they were very good friends, and he, admittedly… still did not like Caligo, and Caligo clearly didn’t like him. But it would make Ardyn happy, if they tried to get along.

“Then,” Ardyn said, clearly delighted, “Why don’t you have your first lesson tonight? You could start after dinner. I’ll retire early tonight, anyway, I’m rather exhausted after this afternoon’s events.”

“Understandable,” Cor said. Ardyn did look exhausted.

Caligo frowned but said, “All right,” very reluctantly.

Cor wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to the lesson or not. Regardless, it would be good for him to learn at least a little Old Lucian, so he could make out some of their conversations.

“Will you be all right on your own?” Cor asked Ardyn, legitimately concerned.

Ardyn waved dismissively. “I’ll have other guards posted. I’ll be fine, don’t you worry your little head.” He smiled, and he looked touched at Cor’s concern. “In a couple of days I’ll be back to my usual self, you’ll see.”

“You healed that girl,” Cor said, “Even though Caligo told you not to.”

Ardyn shrugged. “Of course I did. I’m a healer. And what’s a healer good for if he doesn’t heal the sick, hmm? Even at the cost of his own strength.”

Cor stared down at his meal and said nothing more. It was impossible to tell what to make of the King of Lucis, between Ravus’s warning and the way Ardyn acted around him, and the way he acted when he wasn’t trying his hardest to impress him. That King, the honest one, the selfless healer, the one who’d saved his life, was the easiest to understand and yet… Cor sighed, shook his head. Ardyn was a puzzle, and one he couldn’t imagine being able to figure out any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *roughly translates to "You know the burden it places upon you."  
> and thanks @jonphaedrus for doing the latin for me <3
> 
> And also well, sorry for not a lot of stupid flirting in this chapter, there was too much else to cover. Next one ;)


	3. Chapter 3

It was just after lunch, when Cor and Caligo normally switched shifts as Ardyn’s primary bodyguard. They worked together at times and traded time slots when needed, but for the most part switching off halfway through the day and, subsequently, halfway through the night worked out very well. It mean that they both had twelve hours on duty and twelve hours off the clock, although during those off hours they were often pulled in for other things.

When Cor arrived outside of Ardyn’s bedchamber to take over Caligo’s post, the other man was looking unusually harried and particularly relieved that Cor had arrived when he did.

“Thank goodness,” he grumbled. “He’s insufferable today, it’s about time you showed up to deal with him. I’ll be in the kitchen having a drink, if you need anything call Aranea.”

Cor just looked at him, blinked and said, “Yes, sir,” because Caligo was still technically his superior even if they shared the position as the King’s bodyguard.

As Caligo limped off angrily down the hall, Cor took his post near the door, settling into parade rest. And less than a minute after that, he heard the King’s voice from inside. “Is that Cor Leonis I heard at my door? Don’t be shy, Marshal, come right inside”

Cor, somehow, did not like the sound of that. But he wasn’t about to refuse what was more or less an order from the King, so he opened the door and slipped in, settling into parade rest again once he’d closed the door behind him. “At your service your Majest….”

He trailed off as he finally took in the full force of the sight before him.

Ardyn was… the King was… he was on the bed, stretched out on his side. His long, delicate fingers were plucking grapes from a bowl on occasion, popping them into his mouth. On the other side of the room, across from the bed, a local painter had set up a large canvas and was very studiously at work. He didn’t even seem to notice Cor entering the room.

And Ardyn was… completely naked. Well, not completely. He was wearing a very thin chemise. Very, very thin. So thin, he might as well have been wearing nothing at all because it was completely see-through, but it draped over his form beautifully. Every slight curve, the jut of his hip, his sharp shoulders, all of it was somehow lovingly accentuated by that cloth. He’d combed his hair so it fell across his shoulders in gentle waves, and his bright amber eyes were staring directly at Cor. He was smiling, the most pleased with himself he’d ever looked.

Cor cleared his throat and politely turned away. “What can I do for you, Your Majesty?” he asked, ignoring the flush creeping up the back of his neck.

“Oh come now, Cor,” Ardyn purred. “You needn’t turn away. I thought you _liked_ me. Besides, do you see delightful old Pascal here turning away?” The painter only snorted quietly at the mention of his name.

Cor turned back, but he still averted his gaze. How the painter was working on something like that without any kind of reaction, he wasn’t sure. They must have picked the straightest man in all of Lucis. Or he just didn’t care in the least. He did seem very dedicated to his craft.

“I told you to quit moving,” Pascal grumbled as Ardyn rested his cheek on one fist, fluttering his lashes at Cor, and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and ears. At the painter’s remark, though, Ardyn returned to the position he’d been in before and lazily popped a grape into his mouth.

“Caligo said I was overdoing it this time,” Ardyn said simply. “What do you think? I think it will be a lovely painting for my collection.”

“Oh,” Cor said slowly, and tried to lean around to look at the work in progress. As soon as Pascal caught sight of him, he waved his arms around angrily, splattering paint onto his cheek from the dripping brush.

“No-no-no-no!” He snapped. “It isn’t finished, you can’t look!”

“Okay, okay,” Cor muttered and quietly edged his way back towards the door. “Well I’m… sure it will be a lovely painting, Your Majesty.”

Ardyn visibly relaxed at that and smiled. “Yes, I knew you would think that. Caligo is simply in too bad of a mood to admit as much.”

Cor wanted to say, ‘when _isn’t_ he in a bad mood?’ but he kept his mouth shut. “Is that all, Your Majesty?” he asked, and Ardyn nodded just slightly.

When he turned to leave though, the King said quickly, “Oh no, no, don’t leave, Cor. You may stay in here to watch over me. I’d like to have someone to talk to while Pascal works. Otherwise, I shall be sitting here in dreadful silence for hours on end. It’s terribly boring.”

Cor sighed, and obliged.

Though the next few hours were spent not so much talking to Ardyn as Ardyn talking _at_ him. He learned all about the other man’s tastes for various kinds of fruit, listened to Ardyn complain about how he hated to have to sit still for so long, complain about plenty of other things on top of that, and drone on about nothing at all for ages and ages.

The one thing he did say that Cor found interesting was the mention of a portrait hall. Apparently it was somewhere in the Citadel and contained numerous portraits of Ardyn that he’d had done over the years by famous painters of Lucis. Cor had never exactly been fascinated or talented in the arts, but seeing various depictions of the same man over thousands of years, some by artists who were long dead… that was something you would never see anywhere else.

After a few hours had passed and Ardyn was looking dreadfully bored, the painter finally declared himself finished for the day. He would take the painting back to his studio and work on it more there, and they would set up another time if they needed to. He very methodically began packing up his supplies and Ardyn sat up, stretched luxuriously, and grabbed his fluffy dressing gown, throwing it on over the thin chemise. He yawned, set the empty grape bowl aside, and shoved his slippers on.

“Your Majesty,” Cor said, standing in parade rest and watching him as Ardyn began puttering about the room. “If I may…”

“Oh,” Ardyn looked tired, even if all he’d done was lay there for a few hours. He was leaning heavily to one side, like his leg hurt. “Marshal. I was about to have my bath but, what is it?”

“The hall of portraits you mentioned,” Cor said. “I would very much like to see it, when you have the time.” Ardyn’s eyebrows raised, a pleased smile curling across his lips. “Tomorrow, perhaps,” Cor started to suggest, but Ardyn strode forward and took hold of his elbow.

“Really, Marshal,” he purred, curling himself up against Cor’s side. “I didn’t think you were actually interested in all of that.”

“Well I do find it… interesting,” he said, staring down at his feet, an embarrassed flush staining the tips of his ears.

Ardyn grinned and giggled. “Well in that case, let’s make a little trip up there now, hmm? My bath can wait.” He waved one hand dismissively and latched himself to Cor’s arm, tugging him from the room.

They wove through the Citadel’s maze-like halls, took the elevator up two floors, and continued to a hall that was very much out of the way of just about everything. There was no one else about, only the two of them, as Ardyn turned the corner to a room that was quite long but not very wide. And, along both walls, evenly spaced, were dozens and dozens of paintings, each one unmistakably Ardyn.

Some were similar, but for the most part, each had a different feel to them, a different style, and though many were indeed simple portraits, there were others, too, of him standing draped in fine cloth, handsome depictions from the waist up and a few of his entire body. There were none entirely in the nude, like the one Pascal was working on, but plenty of them were close enough to that.

“Impressed?” Ardyn asked with a grin as the two of them walked the length of the hall, and Cor paused before each portrait to look at it, then to look at Ardyn. Some of the painters had definitely taken their artistic license to heart, depicting him in a near godly light, but many of them were simply Ardyn as Cor knew him. Regal, but mostly unchanged throughout the years.

“How could I not be?” Cor said quietly. “You…” He turned to Ardyn, squinting in disbelief. “You have such a vast collection. Why not display these elsewhere, where others can see them?”

Ardyn snorted at him, looked like he was about to burst into laughter. “You think _this_ is vast?” He motioned to the room around them. “Oh, _Cor_.” He smiled like that was the most adorable thing he’d ever heard come out of someone’s mouth. “When you’ve been alive for two thousand years, when you’ve been _King_ for two thousand years, do you have any idea just how much time you have to spend having your picture painted? This is a _fragment_ of the paintings I’ve had done. A mere fraction. There are thousands upon thousands, Cor, some of them near exact replicas of these and oh, well, plenty more of course. This is only my _personal_ collection. I keep it here as sort of a… hmm.” He frowned, muttering a few words in Old Lucian under his breath as he tried to find the right phrase to describe it. “Well. I like to come here to remember the ages past, let me put it that way. When I come here, I can remember where I was and what was happening when each of these were painted. It keeps me…” Again, the grasping for words. “Grounded. It’s so easy to lose track of time when you get to be so old. Easy to let it just… slip away from you.”

“I…see.” Cor looked around the room again, and he felt Ardyn lean towards him, pillow his head on his shoulder with their arms linked together.

“Mortal lives are so short, compared to the centuries I’ve lived.” Ardyn sighed, muttering under his breath again, more to himself than Cor. “Soon, your life will be gone in an instant, too, and you’ll only be a memory, like all these people who painted my picture in their time.”

Cor, without even thinking (and maybe that was for the best) turned his face to press his nose into Ardyn’s hair, into those wild red curls, and closed his eyes.

“I’m here right now,” he whispered, and he could see just a hint of Ardyn’s smile. The other man tangled their fingers together and Cor let him.

Though Ravus’s warning flashed through his mind, he couldn’t help the ache in his heart, and the warmth he felt when Ardyn pressed himself into his arms, and there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to keep him close and protect him for as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a few requests for more details on the backstory for this au so I wrote it up in a gdoc, link [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rHvf8lxz5hBNn6HIRXFZSQQ0UOGmrEeB8FphmUoI-Uo/edit) and also in 'the wager' since that was the first part of this au. Hope that helps clear some things up for anyone who was wondering c:


	4. Chapter 4

There were a few other occasions when Ardyn asked Cor to guard and keep him company while he posed for the painter. It would, apparently, take a couple of sessions before Pascal had enough down on canvas to truly finish the work in his studio. And during that time, Cor grew very accustomed to seeing Ardyn completely nude. So accustomed that, when Ardyn asked him one evening to help him bathe because his retainer was having unsually bad arthritic pain in his finger joints, Cor didn’t even think twice about it. Nevermind that Caligo gave him a skeptical look when he told him what the King had asked him to assist with that evening. He’d grumbled something about Ardyn eventually replacing his old retainer, and he didn’t seem pleased about that in the least for whatever reason.

To Cor, though, it was simply his job. If he was being asked to assist, he would assist. And he wouldn’t lie to himself that a small part of him was touched the King was so fond of him and so comfortable with him that he would ask such a thing.

When Cor arrived in his chambers, the water had already been run into the tub, steaming hot and waiting for the King. An elderly man was there, one Cor had never met, testing the water with two fingers, then adding a bit of, what Cor guessed was water of a cooler temperature.

The man, who Cor assumed was the old retainer the King had mentioned, stood up and bowed gently to him. “You,” he said as he hobbled over, wiggling one crooked old finger at him. “You must be… Cor… yes, that’s right. Cor Leonis.” He stopped merely a foot in front of Cor, staring up at him. He was so wrinkled, he looked like he’d been in the bath himself for maybe a couple hundred years. He had to be at least eighty… ninety? It was hard to tell. But there was a certain sharpness in his eyes, a slyness to his smile when he looked at Cor. “Oh,” he said after a moment, tutting under his breath. “I was just as handsome in my younger years… but he’s so strong… very nice muscles… and those eyes… yes, yes, His Majesty has very fine taste…”

Cor cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said softly. “I came here for… the King asked me to…”

“Iedolas,” came the call of the King’s voice from the expansive walk-in closet. He emerged a moment later, completely naked, holding up two night gowns. “Are you tormenting the poor man? You know I told you to be nice to him.”

The retainer, Iedolas, laughed a quiet, wheezing laugh under his breath and clasped his hands behind his back. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He nodded again to Cor. “I am Iedolas Aldercapt. His Majesty’s retainer.”

“There,” Ardyn said quickly. “Now that that’s settled, which nightgown do I wear tonight after the bath?” He held up two of them, one which was knee-length and white. Cor had seen him dressed in that at the dinner table in the past. The other had more of a purple sheen to it, had a lower neckline, and was significantly shorter. And at the thought of Ardyn in that, a slow flush crept up the back of his neck.

When Iedolas looked at the two options, he just laughed, pointed to the shorter one and waggled his finger.

Grinning, the King turned and held them up to Cor, cocking one hip. “And your opinion, Marshal?” he purred.

“Oh,” Cor said, straightening. “I… well. I think. Um. That one is. Fine.” Iedolas laughed louder and Ardyn’s grin widened, showing all of his teeth.

“Then that one it is.” He passed the other to his retainer to return to the closet and set the other out on the bed.

“The water is ready, Your Majesty,” Iedolas told him and Ardyn stepped right up and into the tub, sighing as he settled down into the warm water. He stretched his legs out, draped his arms over the sides, and leaned his head back, sinking down further until he was up to his chin, and closed his eyes.

“You always get it perfectly, Iedolas. Whatever will I do without you?”

“Well,” the retainer said as he returned to pull over a small stool and sit at the tub’s edge. “You have a fine strapping soldier there. I’ll teach _him_.” He and Ardyn shared the sort of grin you gave a friend you knew you were about to get into very big trouble with, and the King curled one finger, beckoning to Cor.

“Come here, Marshal,” he said, watching him with a mischievous glint in his amber eyes. “And goodness gracious, you aren’t really going to wear all of that while you tend to me in the bath, are you? What if it gets wet? Why don’t you strip off a few of those layers, mm?”

“Oh,” Cor said, staring down at his clothes. “Of… course. Your Majesty.”

He was certain he heard the retainer chuckling under his breath again and both of them watching him as he pulled off his jacket and hung it by the door, then rolled up the sleeves of the shirt underneath. There was only one stool by the tub, and the retainer was still occupying it so Cor simply joined them and stood next to Iedolas in parade rest.

Ardyn snorted at him, lounging in the tub with one knee cocked and one hand hanging over the edge, spreading himself out just about as much as he could. “Oh, Marshal,” he sighed, “Look, Iedolas. What a fine guard he makes. If I were an enemy, I’d quiver at the mere thought of approaching him. But, we have yet to turn him into an equally fine retainer. Why don’t you teach him a thing or two?”

Cor practically flushed at the praise, and glanced at the old retainer. It wasn’t exactly in his job description, to serve the King in the same way but… if that was what he wanted, Cor had no right to complain. That was what he was there for, after all.

“Take this,” the retainer said, handing him a cloth and a bar of soap, and Cor stood there, perplexed and a little bit overwhelmed until the older man dragged him over and, together, the two of them helped Ardyn scrub himself and washed his hair. Cor did most of the work, since the older man’s fingers were bothering him too much to do it himself, and he tried not to think about how smooth Ardyn’s skin was beneath his hands, or how soft his wavy hair as he scrubbed out the dirt and grease.

Iedolas kept smacking at Cor’s hands, telling him he was doing it wrong and then, much more gently, showing him how to do it right. It was mostly like washing himself except apparently the King was particularly picky about it. But soon Ardyn relaxed under the touch until he was a clean, happy lump in the tub, sinking in up to his chin again, his hair floating out in a red halo around his head.

“Marshal,” he purred sleepily as Iedolas rose and started to clean up, leaving Cor sitting on the stool by the tub. “You ought to join me. The water is still nice and warm.”

“And full of the filth we washed off you,” Cor grunted. “No thank you.” When Ardyn looked a little put out, he sighed and added, gently, “Another time, maybe.”

The King brightened again at that, sat up and stretched out a hand for Cor to take. “Help me out, Marshal.”

Cor did as he’d asked, and Iedolas arrived with an enormous towel the King immediately wrapped himself in while his retainer gently squeezed the water out of his hair with a second, smaller towel. “It’s a little early to retire, isn’t it?” he asked.

“If His Majesty is tired,” Iedolas said, “He should rest.”

Ardyn shrugged. “Perhaps.”

But, after they got him dressed in his nightgown, Cor flushing far too much and Iedolas side-eyeing him and snickering, and the two of them ushered him into bed, Ardyn fell fast asleep almost on the spot.

Iedolas put out all the lights but one, to see by as he tidied the room, and eventually came to stand by Cor’s side as he stood watch by his bed. He had very pointedly not been looking at Ardyn, but when Iedolas joined him, he followed the older man’s gaze to where his King was curled up under the sheets, warm and dozing contently, snoring a little.

The old man hummed, grinned, and looked up at Cor. “I used to look at him like that, too, you know. The difference is, he looks at you the same way, when you aren’t watching.”

“Like what?” Cor asked, startled and with his chest in knots, caught completely off-guard. He shook his head, blinked like he’d imagined the other man saying those words. “Wait, what?” But Iedolas just stared at him and chuckled. Then, he prodded Cor out of the room to stand outside the door so the King could rest in peace, and put out the last remaining light.


	5. Chapter 5

Iedolas teased Cor relentlessly about his fondness for the King, and there was no getting out of it. Iedolas was old, and he and Ardyn worried that he might fall ill and die too quickly for the retainer to successfully pass on his knowledge. He needed to train someone, and he needed to do it now, while he was still healthy. 

Naturally, the pick for his replacement was Cor. It was the King’s choice, and there was nothing either of them could say to that. Not even Cor’s preference for the life of a soldier could stop the King.

But, he didn’t mind the idea of being the King’s retainer so much, the more he learned about the job. He would be the King’s closest confident, and though the work was much different than that of a bodyguard, the idea of being so close to him was… appealing.

Cor and Caligo grew closer, too. They’d started sharing a drink or two when they both had the time, just fifteen or twenty minutes between their shifts. At one of the small kitchen tables, they each sipped great glass mugs of ale, Cor listening patiently as Caligo bemoaned his resistance to drink. Apparently, being immortal had that affect.

When they’d nearly finished, Caligo leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, rubbing his belly and looking like he was about to drift off. Cor sloshed the ale in the bottom of his mug as he tried to put words to what he wanted to ask. “I was wondering, how much do you know about the King’s retainer?”

“Ah,” Caligo said, nodding. “You want to know about old Iedolas. I’m not surprised, I suppose. That old man’s full of questions that beg to be answered.”

“Yes,” Cor said carefully, unsure how much of his conversations with the old retainer he should reveal. “He is.”

“Well,” Caligo slammed his mug back on the table and leaned over it, clutching it in his meaty hands. “He and the King go back a long time. Long for mortals, at least. About a hundred years or so now. His Majesty saved Iedolas’s life when he was about twenty-five, and they’ve been practically inseparable since then. Their relationship from what I understand it is… complicated.” He shrugged.

“A hundred years?” Cor tilted his head. “How old _is_ Iedolas?”

“Well, let’s see now…” Caligo started counting on his fingers. “It must be his 118th this year. But, that’s not too surprising, after being subject to the King’s healing…”

“What?” Cor asked. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Huh? He didn’t tell you? Those he heals are often blessed with longer life.”

Longer life… Cor stared at the reflections of the room’s light as they played off his near-empty glass. It was almost funny, considering the nickname he’d been given. To be blessed with longer life… and the King never thought to mention it. “No,” he said. “His Majesty didn’t tell me.”

“Hrm,” Caligo huffed. “Predictable, really. Don’t you have a meeting to help him prepare for, by the way?”

“Yes.” Cor sighed, shoulders slumped, and finished off the last of his ale while Caligo waved his glass around for a refill. He had to ask. “Just one more thing. Iedolas told me… he told me…”

“Well?” Caligo prompted. “Spit it out.”

“He told me he used to love the King.”

Caligo let out a half-laugh, nodding to the servant who came by to refill his glass from the bottle, and leaned over the table. “Well, he wouldn’t be the first. But the King’s been single for two-thousand years. Some old retainer’s not going to break his record, I’d bet. At this rate, if His Majesty ever falls for anyone, I’ll eat my own boots. Now go on, Marshal. He’ll throw a fit if you’re late.”

Cor nodded, a strange, cold feeling in his chest as he left his mug behind and went to assist Iedolas in dressing the King for his upcoming conversation with Chancellor Clarus. 

— 

Cor knocked on the King’s bedchamber door before letting himself in. It was a mere formality at this point.

Iedolas looked up from where he was carefully pinning and arranging giant swaths of cloth across Ardyn’s shoulder and torso while the King stood perfectly still, arms out, though he, too, tossed his head to look at Cor and gave him a winning smile.

“You’re late, boy,” Iedolas grunted, waving him over. “Come help me with this damned cloth.”

“Be kind, Iedolas,” Ardyn said. “You know this toga is an antique and deserves your respect.”

“Cloth is cloth,” Iedolas said. He jerked his head towards a small folded bundle on the floor. The retainer was holding one end of it up against Ardyn’s shoulder already. “Drape that over his other shoulder, now. There’s a good lad.” Ardyn shifting ever so slightly to assist as they got it all to sit right. The toga was dyed a deep, rich purple that made Ardyn’s oddly colored hair stand out even more than usual, and he seemed to pride himself on that.

“Now,” Iedolas said, “His hair and the crown. His Majesty must look perfectly presentable for this meeting.”

Cor had combed Ardyn’s shoulder-length maroon curls on multiple occasions, and he did so again, with great care. Iedolas brought a stool for the King to sit on as Cor worked out the tangles. Then, the retrainer carefully brought over his crown—a golden laurel leaf headpiece—setting it on the dresser while Cor finished. Cor had only seen him wear his crown a few times and even then, the robes he wore when he sat on the throne were different than these. These were full dress robes, embroidered with gold thread, draped perfect and elegant.

“Marshal,” Ardyn said off-hand as they put the finishing touches in place. “Caligo will be my guard for this evening. I want you to stay here with Iedolas.”

“What?” Cor asked, surprised more than anything. Even though he was training as a retainer, he’d kept his usual guard duty shift, and this meeting would be during his hours, not Caligo’s. He’d been looking forward to standing loyally at the King’s side while the King spoke with the Chancellor.

Ardyn giggled at that. “Jealous, Marshal?” His amber eyes glinted in amusement, and Cor felt himself flush. “You can’t have me _all_ the time, you know. The truth of the matter is, though, it’s for your own safety. General Drautos will be accompanying the Chancellor here today.

“Drautos.” Cor froze, his stomach twisting. “My brother is here?” 

“Yes.” Ardyn turned to face him, and Iedolas placed his crown atop his head, arranging his curls around it. The King stood.

He looked stunning, like that, the gold of the crown matching the gold thread of his toga, his hair combed and arranged, and his eyes, for once, not heavy with bags beneath them. The midday light streaming in through his great bedroom windows played off the crown and the toga’s trim and embroidery, making him shine.

Caligo’s words—that the King would surely never love anyone in return—weighed heavy on Cor’s heart, and seeing the King now, it ached even more, for reasons he couldn’t begin to describe. His King was gorgeous and powerful and for a moment Cor forgot that Ardyn had just said his brother had come to Lucis.

“I’m assuming you have no interest in seeing him,” the King said.

“No.” Cor clenched his jaw. “No, I don’t.”

Ardyn stared at Cor for a long moment as Iedolas tidied the room, replacing the stool and the comb and straightening the sheets on the bed.

The King closed the distance between himself and Cor until they were a mere handspan away, leaning in, suddenly looking uncharacteristically serious. It was clear that, whatever he had to say, he didn’t want Iedolas to overhear.

“Are you happy here, Cor?” he asked. Cor just blinked at him, caught off-guard again. “If you aren’t,” Ardyn continued, “Well I seem to have… lost interest in forcing you to stay at my side. If you would rather be with your family, in Niflheim, or live a life of your own, I’d grant you that freedom. You’ve more than paid off your debt to me these past few months.”

“What?” Cor shook his head. “No, no, I’m… I’m happy, Your Majesty.” He licked his lips as he tried to find words, but it was nearly impossible when they were so close and Ardyn was staring at him with wide eyes and long lashes.

He could have leaned in and kissed him. He wouldn’t dare to do such a thing, but…

“You are?” Ardyn asked, softly, like he was just making sure. He touched Cor’s chest with the tips of his thin fingers, ran them gently across the buttons of his uniform. Cor shuddered. “Are you sure? Even if I never give you what you want?”

What he wanted… what _did_ he want? To pull the King closer, to wrap him in his strong arms… ? Perhaps. Perhaps he hoped for Ardyn to return those affections, as Caligo informed him the King never would. But even if the King never did, he _was_ happy. He would remain happy.

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation, even he flushed across his cheeks and ears. He forced himself to stiffen, too, as Ardyn lifted that same hand and brushed the stubble along his jawline with the backs of his soft fingers.

“Would you tell me what you want, Cor? If I asked?”

“I…” The words wouldn’t come out. They caught in his throat, leaving him gaping like a fish.

Ardyn pressed one finger to Cor’s lips, leaned in and kissed his cheek, then whispered into his ear, “Think about that, for me. Tell me when I return. Tell me what you want.”

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Cor stepped back until he was a respectable distance from the King. He didn’t miss Iedolas standing near the side of the bed, staring at him with mischievous eyes.

It was Caligo who let himself into the room. He didn’t look nearly as dazed as he had in the kitchen, maybe half an hour ago. He was straight-backed, sharp and prepared. He took one look at the assembled, dipped his head to the King and said, “The Chancellor is arriving shortly, Your Majesty. We best make our way to the throne room.”

“Of course,” Ardyn said, very pointedly not looking at Cor as he followed Caligo out. Cor stared at him until Caligo closed the door behind them.

“What did he say?” Iedolas asked with a shit-eating grin the second Ardyn was out of earshot. “It was too quiet for me to hear.”

Cor just swatted one hand in his direction. “Like I’d tell you. I’m going to my room for a while. I’ve got a headache.” What he really wanted was another stiff drink, but even as the heat in the pit of his stomach faded, he keping thinking about the King’s eyes, and how soft the King’s lips had felt against his cheek. He really was starting to feel a migraine coming on, a burning pressure behind his eyes that would soon be too much to bear. There was nothing he could do but try to relax before all the sudden tension in his head and jaw made it worse.

—

He slept, and it was past the usual dinner hour by the time he woke. The sun had set, the moon rising outside his room’s single tall window. He was normally on shift at this time. It was strange not to be, but he did feel better after a nap. His migraine had faded to a dull throb, still there, but bearable.

Someone had brought that evening’s stew and left it on his bedside table. It was unfortunately cool, but he ate it anyway, sitting up against two pillows as he stared out the window at the city below. When he’d finished, he set the empty bowl in his lap. 

To think, that Titus Drautos was there, in the Citadel… it was strange to consider. Titus was his half brother, and they’d never seen eye to eye, always fighting as children. Cor had left that life behind, left _him_ behind when he came to Lucis.

Did Titus wonder where he was? Was he desperate to give Cor a piece of his mind? Perhaps his brother would even go so far as to plot Cor’s murder for betraying the Emperor. The King was right to keep them apart, but a part of Cor still wanted to see him, if only to know for sure, if only for that closure he’d never had.

He touched his cheek where the King’s lips had brushed his skin. Too many thoughts circled his mind.

As he set the bowl on the bedside table and decided it might be worth getting up, there was a knock at the door. When he called to them to come in, assuming it was a servant, it was the King who stood in the doorway.

Cor snapped to his feet, bowing, arm drawn across his chest, but the King only laughed as he closed the door behind him. He still wore the dress robes, but he’d lost the crown at some point, his hair a little messy where the golden laurel had rested.

“Sit, Marshal,” he said. “I’m not here to order you about, for once. I just wanted to see if you were feeling any better. Iedolas tells me you left hastily for your chambers, complaining of one of your migraines. It was even more fortunate, then, that I’d chosen Caligo to accompany me. You would… not have enjoyed the proceedings.”

“But, did it go well?” Cor asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. To his surprise, the King joined him, sitting down as lightly as the most majestic of birds upon a perch.

“As well as it could have, I supposed.” He shrugged. “I won’t bore you with the details.” 

“And my brother?”

“Hmm.” The King’s brow furrowed. “He said nothing of you.”

Cor’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. That could mean anything. 

“My poor Marshal,” The King sighed. “Don’t worry. I assure you, you’re most safe here with me.”

“I know,” Cor said, though he wasn’t sure if the King meant that he was safe in the Citadel, or if he was safe because the King would fight for him if need be. Perhaps both.

“Did you have time to consider what I asked earlier?”

“I did,” Cor said.

“And?”

“And, what I want is not appropriate for me to say.” He was very adamant about that. He did not look at the King.

“Tell me anyway,” the King said, staring at the wall, just as Cor was, though he was smiling.

Wrinkling his nose, Cor tried to get the words to form in his mouth. They just felt stuck. He wasn’t even sure if it was something he could describe. “I feel as though…,” he said at last, because the King was being infuriatingly patient. “What I want should make no difference to a King.”

“Oh, Marshal,” the King said, far too amused. “I thought you were braver than _that_.”

Cor didn’t know what to say. He furrowed his brow, baffled. The King’s eyes were on him now, he could feel it, though he didn’t dare meet his eyes in return.

“Then I suppose,” he said, working the words out around his lips and tongue, “that what I want is my King’s affections.”

The King let out a muffled half-laugh, apparently pleased with himself. Warm fingertips pressed to Cor’s chin, and before he could pull away, his King leaned in, once again pressing those gentle lips to his skin, though this time not to his cheek, but to the corner of his mouth.

“You may have it yet,” he said, drew back, and pressed one finger to Cor’s nose. He stood while Cor sat, flabbergasted, on the bed. Flipping his tumble of curls back across his shoulder, the King gave Cor a smirk like an overly-confident cat and made for the door. “Take care of your poor headache, Marshal. Get some rest. I’ll have someone send up a drink for you, and some food aside from that unfortunate stew.”

When the King left, Cor rubbed at the corners of his lips. After another nap, he wondered if the King’s visit was only a dream. But every day, as he went about his duties, the King would toss him a look like he’d gotten _exactly_ what he wanted out of Cor, and Cor knew that almost-kiss had been very, very real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on the last chapter of this thing for over a year and I finally finished it. To be honest, this is probably the end of this AU. Know that it has a happy ending. If you like my work, I'm working on novels and original short stories. You can follow me on twitter @thetealord


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